Free Let’s Talk Terror by Carolyn Keene Page A

something you should know. Meet me at 1331 Western Avenue this afternoon. Go up the stairs. I’ll be waiting, and I’ll explain everything. It’s important that you come alone. Thanks. Laura Salvo.
    Nancy handed the note to George. “I’ve got to follow this up.”
    â€œI’ll come with you,” George said after reading the note.
    Nancy shook her head. “It says alone , George. But I’ll tell you what. If you don’t hear from me within an hour, come after me, okay? Here are my car keys—I’ll cab it.”
    â€œAre you sure, Nan?” George asked. “I smell a rat.”
    â€œYou’re not the only one,” Nancy agreed. “I was just over at Teen Talk. Laura’s been fired.”
    â€œDo you think it was because of us?” George asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Nancy said, frowning. “I guess I’ll find out from Laura. But in any case, I do think we ought to have a little chat with Karen Kristoff. She might be able to fill in some holes.”
    Saying goodbye to George and Ginger, Nancy went back out into the street and hailed a cab. She gave the cabbie the address and leaned back against the seat to think.
    The case was confusing, and Nancy’s best clues, like the marker and the scarf, were with the police. Two things Nancy was almost sure of: the caller had been telling the truth on that day’s show—there was another person involved, and the other person worked at Stern Productions.
    Although the sign-in sheets had been stolen and a phony name written in, Nancy decided that only a Stern insider would have had the knowledge to get about quickly backstage, known how to fool with the TelePrompTer, and been able to come in and out without anyone noticing.
    As the cab drove on, the neighborhoods grew shabbier and shabbier, and more and more industrial. This part of Western Avenue was full of old warehouses, auto body repair shops, and corner convenience stores. The address 1331 Western was a large, two-story wooden building, with bars on the windows and a sign in front that said America Plus Stage Scenery. After paying the cabbie, Nancy got out and went over to the heavy front door.
    She knocked, and after a minute, when nobody answered, she tried the handle. The door was unlocked. Stepping inside, Nancyfound herself in a little vestibule, with a door on the left, which Nancy assumed went to the first-floor warehouse, and a flight of steps on the right.
    Nancy remembered that the note had told her to go upstairs. She did so, slowly, her ears alert to any stray noise she might hear. But the building was utterly silent. Too silent.
    At the top of the stairs Nancy stopped and looked around. There were several empty rooms that opened on to an empty hallway. No furniture anywhere. The windows were all barred, too. “Laura?” Nancy called out. There was no response. Again she said, “Laura? Are you there? It’s me—Nancy Drew.”
    Then she heard a door opening downstairs. As Nancy turned to go back down, she heard a liquid being poured and began to smell something that reminded her of gasoline. “Laura?” she called out again as she started down. “What’s going—?”
    Her words were cut off as a door was slammed and a huge fireball burst up from the bottom of the stairs. Someone had set the building on fire!

Chapter

Ten
    N ANCY HASTILY retreated back up the stairs as thick smoke rose after her. She ran along the corridor, checking each room. Every window was locked and fastened with vertical iron bars.
    Soon she was coughing from the choking smoke, which was getting thicker by the moment. How could she have been so foolish as to walk into a trap! George wouldn’t be coming after her for another half hour at least!
    Holding a handkerchief over her nose to filter out the smoke, Nancy searched frantically for any means of escape. Finally, in one of the side offices, she saw an ancient